Some years ago, I wrote quite a bit of poetry. I was even a member of a monthly poetry group. Lots of painful stuff happened then, and pain can be quite the muse for poetry, and writing in general.
Today, I felt inspired to write a poem. Nothing particularly painful happened, rather, more of a wistful wondering, based on a chance encounter with a neighbor. It's a first draft, so likely it'll go through a few revisions before I feel like it's done. But here goes:
"Sunflowers"
Looking over the fence today,
A neighbor was working in his yard.
Not much different from my own
Tending the lawn,
Separating the despised weeds
From the soft, green grass.
As I watered my grass,
I noticed a tall bunch of sunflowers
Growing in the corner of my neighbor's yard.
Lovely plants -- they reminded me of the blooms
I once received as a gift.
So, so tall --
The bright flowers rose higher than the fence.
Then I realized what my neighbor was doing.
The flowers disappeared, a few at a time.
I heard the sound of cutting,
And I knew that these were not to be kept.
They were counted among the weeds,
A nuisance, something to be rid of.
I wondered why he would choose to dispose of them.
They chose his yard to grow in --
So fortunate -- to have such pretty flowers
Without even trying.
Was there something in their beautiful wildness
That he was afraid to keep?
It was a shame to waste something so lovely.
I thought I should ask for a few cuttings to keep in my yard.
But good manners averted such presumption.
So sadly I spied the corner again.
No longer did the yellow blossoms smile upon me.
I wondered why I spent so much time caring for something that didn't belong
When God's beautiful provision was cast aside.
(end of poem -- for now)
Just wondering...you know?
